


Don't Let it Win

by TheLightFury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Depressed Harry, Depressing, Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 10:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLightFury/pseuds/TheLightFury
Summary: Harry is consumed by depression. Draco is on-hand to help.





	Don't Let it Win

**Author's Note:**

> TW/CW: EXTREMELY DEPRESSING EPISODE. No self-harm or suicide, but don't trigger yourself ❤️

Harry's eyes shuttered closed, the ache in his chest intensifying. With each thud of his heart, despair consumed him, any shreds of positive emotion were hounded until they completely disappeared. He'd never understood the term “heartsick” as he did now, stomach churning whilst heaviness and anguish wreaked havoc in his chest. Like a stone he plummeted, plunged into despair; a suffocating pit. It ravaged him, leaving him raw, empty, and weak.

Defeated.

He sat motionless as waves of emotion hit him, one after the other. He wished he could scream. Yell. Punch. Kick. Cry! Do anything. But it was impossible. He was sentenced to dwelling in the unrelenting grief, paralysed by the pain. 

He couldn't fight it. 

Not anymore.

Somewhere to his left, he heard his boyfriend approach, breathing his name gently. Draco was his lifeline, his only hope, the sole person who knew exactly what to do. But Harry was drowning, drifting further away from him in his ocean of torment. He didn't know if Draco could save him this time.

Gentle grey eyes met his, their warmth promising relief, help. Love. A whimper rose in his throat, desperate to believe Draco could bring him back. He needed to feel safe, to be home. To be held.

Without hesitation, soft lips met his forehead, pressing gently, but firmly. In the next breath, strong, gentle arms encircled him, tugging him against the lean body. Heady scents began to flood his senses, and his head was guided to a sturdy chest, the reassuring drum of his partner's heartbeat echoing beat, after beat, after beat. 

Enveloped by Draco's arms, war was waged. The pain within sneered and spat, constant, powerful and unyielding. It clawed him, raging, biting, clutching, and tearing without mercy. It ached to devour him, to steal him from Draco's grasp, conquer him once and for all. He couldn't stop the whimpers ripping from his throat.

“It’ll be okay, Harry.” Draco murmured, soft, low, confident.

He couldn't respond, couldn't disagree. His chest spasmed again, pain threatening to devour him from the inside out. His fingers curled into Draco's shirt of their own volition, clutching desperately against the onslaught of emotion. 

Slowly, gently, he felt Draco run his elegant, long fingers through his ever disastrous hair, massaging every so often. Each firm, loving touch sent shivers down his spine. Soft, strangled noises of relief punctuating the whimpers of pain. Moments later, something soft wrapped itself around Harry's chest, trying to cushion it against the vicious blows. Soft tones met his ears; Draco had also began to hum. He clung to the gentle, rhythmic vibrations. Every rumble bridged the void of desperation that so desperately tried to keep him imprisoned in misery, whilst each gentle touch challenged the depression's power, shaking it's firm foundations. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the pain began to recede, gently forced away under Draco's strong, smooth fingers. Warmth, love, and safety trickled past vicious defences, soothing Harry's tormented soul despite the ferocious protests. As the Slytherin continually hummed and smoothed, massaged and murmured, Harry felt the anguish mutate. 

The violent clawing at his chest and stifling despair gave way to powerful cramps that made his stomach squirm, but reduced the pain in his chest. In Draco's tender arms, the cramps became sharp twinges, each stabbing him, like a dagger to his heart. Though frequent at first, with each caress, the pain gradually lessened in intensity, and the twinges became less ardent. He gripped Draco tighter as the man changed his song, focusing on his voice rather than the pain. Finally, all that remained was a dull, dense ache in his chest. 

He focused on his breathing, each inhale slow and deliberate, each exhale mixing with Draco's sweet breath.

It was over. 

The suffocating aura of desperation had lifted. Draco was here, soft, safe, and warm, still crooning to him softly, nose firmly planted in Harry's hair. At some point his boyfriend had summoned a blanket and tucked it around them, the soft material engulfing him in scents of home. 

But he still had to get through the aftermath, first.

Like the air immediately after a storm, he felt empty and full at the same time. Exhaustion rolled through him, a consequence of the prolonged anguish, yet the bone weary sensation that usually accompanied fatigue was missing. Instead, emptiness consumed him. 

There was no relief. No comfort. No happiness. Not even any residual sadness. 

He felt nothing. 

It was as though someone had sucked out all of his emotions, removing them accidentally when lifting the desperation. He was merely existing. Going through the motions. Like a robot.

Draco shifted against him, sensing the change.

“It'll get better Harry, I promise you.” 

The words were soft, delicate, and laced with unimaginable love. Harry's emotions remained unaffected.

He sighed to himself, clinging mentally to Draco's touch, his breath, his smell, anything to reassure himself that Draco was right. Things would get better. 

It was always like this. The exhaustion of depression left him detached, numb to positive emotions. Yet the slightest upset always threatened to send him back to the pit of despair. It was as though a fragile bubble of protection was cast around him, trying to ensure he could function by blocking all emotions, but was too weak to shield him from any negativity. 

It was useless. And annoying.

He adjusted against his boyfriend, arm curling around Draco's slender waist, tucking his head more firmly against his collarbone, craving physical security in the face of his absent emotions. The Slytherin squeezed him closer.

“I know you're probably still fairly numb right now,” Draco murmured against his temple. 

“I'm not going anywhere, take as long as you need,” Harry was squeezed again, eyes slipping closed as he relished the contact. 

“You know you turned me into a common Hufflepuff sap months ago, Harry James Potter.”

Grey eyes met his once again as for the first time in what felt like days, a small smile danced on Harry's lips. The tenuous, shallow, but undeniable sensation of love curled through his chest as he gazed into Draco's mocking but loving eyes. They were like a breath of fresh, clean, cool air after a long, harrowing dive underwater.

Inexplicably, Harry found his hand entwined in Draco's hair, pulling his face towards his own so that their lips could brush, softly, reverently. Draco's lips smiled against his own as they parted, welcoming more deeper, slow, tender kisses. Harry fell into them, drinking in the sensation, the taste, the desire, as more passion and emotion awoke in him.

It wasn't enough to overpower the numbness, to end the emotional drought, the robotic sensations and resume normality; but it was a start. One of the many reasons he loved Draco was that no matter how lost he was, no matter how far away, emotionally, mentally, even geographically, Draco could always reach him, make him smile, laugh, relax, and simply feel again. The world could fall apart around them, and Draco would still make him smile. It did on a regular occasion.

They paused their kisses, and Harry rested his forehead against Draco's, smile still firmly in place despite the pervasive lack of emotion.

“I love you, Draco Malfoy, with all my heart.” He didn't have to feel it to know that it was true.

“I love you too, Harry James Potter, far more than you know.”

Harry kissed him again, shuddering slightly as they melting into each other. Normality would resume itself at some point, it always did. He'd probably enter the pit of despair again in the future, needing to be rescued from his own mind, too tired to fight himself. But dwelling on that wouldn't help him. 

As gentle hands caressed his cheeks and warm breath huffed softly against his, revitalising him, warming him, he turned his attention to the here and now. The man in front of him. His reason to live. His everything. His world. 

Emotion or none, Harry knew he'd take whatever life threw at him just to stay with the Slytherin prat. Draco completed him, made the world a better place, and made him laugh when all hope was lost. As long as he had Draco, everything would be okay. As long as he had Draco, life wouldn't win.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Come find me on Tumblr: april-thelightfury115


End file.
